


death of one;

by bloodynargles



Series: the death and life of Rhea Trevelyan; [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood and Gore, Circle of Magi, F/M, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Minor Character Death, Ostwick, Ostwick Circle, The Breach (Dragon Age), The Conclave, Violence, templars are assholes but also not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:05:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5816980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodynargles/pseuds/bloodynargles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's blood dripping down her chin, and the twisted snarl of the Templar in front of her makes her want to lash out again, her foot colliding with his shin and he buckles, the groan of pain almost like a lullaby in her ears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	death of one;

**Author's Note:**

> fic one of two, new quizzie Rhea. bab mage. give her hugs oh my god.

There's blood dripping down her chin, and the twisted snarl of the Templar in front of her makes her want to lash out again, her foot colliding with his shin and he buckles, the groan of pain almost like a lullaby in her ears. She wants them to _feel bad_ , wants them to feel the pain of being beaten to death, punches landed over and over until they don't sting anymore, their vision fading, but not before the killing blow hits, and they're brought back into searing consciousness by the white hot pain of a rib puncturing a lung. Her feet kick out again and again until the clanging footsteps of his oncoming comrades echo down the hall, she lands a well deserved kick under his chin and he stops moving, but she _can't,_ only stopping when she was being forcefully pulled away by the other Templars.

Funny.

Funny how it took so long for them to get here. Like no one _really_ cared for his life, one of the senior enchanters glancing at her from over the top of his book, the innocent, newly harrowed mages were staying out of it but Rhea knew it had been one of them. The older ones didn't care enough for their armoured jailers to tell on another mage in this situation, they wanted out of this circular prison and absently she wonders if they give you better food in the gallows.

 

She's pushed into the Knight-Commander's office and her face twists into a brief smile, her eyes betraying her character and falling into the sweet doe eyed girl she had been before they'd told her he had miraculously 'disappeared'.

“Trevelyan, here again? For what, then? Did you assist in another's break out? Perhaps tried yourself?” The one who dragged her here with the lightest grip on her arm shifted and glanced back at someone at the door, his grip tightening and she _kno_ _ws_. “Ser Angus is dead.” He stops, stills and looks up at her from the documents on his desk, she smiles and he grimaces, grits his teeth and grips the edge of his desk as if his life depended on it. “How?” His voice is quiet and somewhere there's Alcander, shaking his head and mumbling something about how he knew that they should never have started this in the first place, her knees fail her and she wants not to cry, not to show weakness but she was _grieving_ and they were making his death seem like an everyday occurrence. Alf holds her up until she regains her footing, and she doesn't ever want to admit it but she is thankful he's there, or thankful he pities her enough to remain somewhat loyal to his friend. To a corpse that was rotting away on the side of a path somewhere, stripped of his armour and name, stripped of everything but he still held her beating _heart_.

She doesn't answer, vaguely hears a woman's voice behind her – not Lydia, not a mage, “Beaten to death. She should be made tranquil, we keep her and her kind _safe_ , and this, this is what they do to-” “Enough.” Rhea can hear the scolding she was going to get from the First Enchanter in her head and she knows that the gallows were a better place to live out the remainder of her life than tranquillity, but the mage couldn't find herself enough to _care_. “Make me tranquil.” Her voice is quiet and Alf lets out a shaky sigh, a please don't without words. He wouldn't want this.

 

 _He_ isn't here to fight her on it.

_-_

 

They don't. Make her tranquil. They send her to the First Enchanter with a warning and Lydia looks up at her in shock alarm, betrayal almost making it across her face after the Templars leave them alone. “You _killed_ a man, Rhea.” “I'm aware. He went still but I just kept kicking, like I couldn't–“ Her voice trails off and the sound of footsteps sound towards her hunched frame, a hand on her shoulder that doesn't catch her when her knees buckle from under her, the floor is cold and she lets out a dry sob, chest heaving as she tries to pretend, tries to stop herself from making a _fool_ out of herself. The hand rests on her head and the First Enchanter sighs – she just sits there, for a while. Its the last memory she has of her, before she was killed and their own circle was dissolved, the mages becoming apostates and the Templars, _Alf_ , hunting her down like she was an abomination, not right for this world. It wasn't like she didn't agree with them, it was Genevieve pulling her along, pulling her to the Conclave, the wisps of murky brown hair that stuck out from the other's hair the last thing she can coherently remember as the door swings open, two women rushing in, one like a bull and the other almost sneakily. Rhea sighs. She'd have to get through _this_ shit, too.

**Author's Note:**

> its probably not the way the templars would handle one of their own being beaten to death but its on the verge of the circle dissolving and the rebels taking control so...... idk man.


End file.
